


Tears, Confessions, and a Piano

by EmberandShadow



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Fluff, Hesitation, Introspection, M/M, Protective Ed, Tears, piano playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberandShadow/pseuds/EmberandShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward has always liked puzzles, and maybe putting together Oswald heart will the most challenging and rewarding puzzle yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears, Confessions, and a Piano

**Author's Note:**

> Oswald is a smol cinnamon roll who needs to be protected and nurtured, and Ed is exactly the person to do that.

Edward was dreaming. But tonight his dreams weren't fantasies made up by his subconscious, but a replay of his memories. Only his memories were distorted; in his dreams all those months of trying to win over Miss Kringle play like a movie, only the distortion made it Oswald, not Kristen, who was the object of Ed's attention. It was Oswald whom he spent months giving riddles and notes to, it was him that he saved from a storm of bullets in the attack on the GCPD. And it was Oswald whom he had killed for. It was halfway through Ed's memory of his first date with Oswald that he heard the music. The sweet melody pulled Ed out of his twisted dreams and into reality.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking into the darkness. The occasional green light that passed through his apartment illuminated the area enough for him to make out Oswald's silhouette at the piano. Ed repositions himself enough to get a clear look at Oswald, allowing himself for just a moment to believe his dreams are actually reality. He quietly gets up and walks over to his feathered friend, joining him at the piano. Oswald glances over at him but doesn't stop playing. Recognizing the song Ed joins in. The two of them get lost in the music, enveloped in the crescendo, held in the moment.

Ed quietly gasps when his hand brushes against Oswald's, but neither of them falter in their playing. Ed looks over at the smaller man, admiring his features and letting his thoughts wander. Oswald truly is like a bird, but more of a baby bird. It's like he was thrown out of the nest too early and now all he wants to do is prove himself. He lashes out with violence, struggling to be something more than he is because he's been looked down upon all his life. He puts up a wall, blocks out all emotion, manipulates and hides. He's killed so many that it's a wonder he has any sort of humanity left at all. But sometimes, in moments such as these, Oswald's true self comes out.

When Ed met Oswald for the first time he met the facade, the well-mannered but dangerous Penguin. The rising mobster who should be feared and revered. But when they came face to face the second time Ed saw the wounded bird. Ed could see the cracks in Oswald's mask, could see the sad and defeated man that lay beneath his cold and murderous exterior. And looking at him now Ed could see the tears slipping silently down his cheeks. And his heart melts.

Ed wants to help Oswald. He wants to mend his broken heart as he mended his broken wings. He wants to get to know the softer side of Oswald, the side that would go to hell and back for the ones that he loves. He wants to know the Oswald that would risk everything to protect his mother. And even though Ed's now killed himself, he can't help but feel there's something alluring in the prospect of someone who kills without remorse possibly loving him. He wants to be the person Oswald trusts, the person he goes to when he's in need of someone. And he wants Oswald to be that person for him as well.

Ed's fingers slip from the piano keys and he just watches Oswald in fascination as he plays the last two sorrowful bars of the song. And then the two of them are left in silence. Oswald sniffs and hastily wipes away his tears.

"I'm sorry I woke you." Oswald says, his voice cracking.

"Where'd you learn to play?" Ed asks softly.

"I taught myself. I used to play for my mother." He hiccups as more tears slide down his face.

Ed can't help himself. He gently wipes the tears away and Oswald looks up at him with sad eyes.

"I still can't believe she's gone." Ed can see Oswald's doing all he can not to entirely break down in front of him.

Ed wants to pull Oswald to him, wants to wrap him up in blankets and hold him, wants so desperately to do to _something._ But he doesn't know what to do.

"She was really the only one to show you affection wasn't she?" Ed asks, trying not to press too hard.

Oswald nods, wiping away more tears. Ed can't restrain himself any longer. He changes position so he can more effectively pull the broken man against his chest. Oswald protests at first, unsure of what's happening. But when Ed just holds him, Oswald relaxes. And it's then that Oswald breaks down entirely. He can't hold back anymore. And Ed just holds him as he shakes, strokes his hair as he sobs.

Oswald latches on to Ed, grips his shirt and refuses to let go. Because Ed is the only other person he's ever known that actually seems to give a damn about him. Sure Galavan may be dead now, but that doesn't bring back his mother. And Oswald has nothing left without her. She was what kept him sane, what kept him human, what gave him the strength to do the things he's done. And now everything he's ever worked for has been destroyed. Galavan swept through his life like a plague, infecting everything he's ever known. He has no friends, no empire, no _home._

Oswald looks up at the man holding him and for the first time since his mother's death he feels hope. Ed, somehow, feels like exactly the thing he needs right now. Oswald straightens, wipes his tears away, sniffs one last time. Ed smiles sweetly at him before standing up and retreating to the kitchen. Oswald spends the next several minutes composing himself. And then he feels a blanket around his shoulders and Ed holds out a mug for him. Oswald smiles, takes a sip through the straw. He stares into the mug, too afraid to look into Ed's eyes.

"Thank you Ed. For everything." Oswald says quietly, so quiet in fact that he's unsure if Ed even hears him.

"I just want to help you."

Ed's words ring through Oswald's ears and he looks back up at him in amazement. No one has ever said those words, no one's ever wanted to help him. Oswald's heart has been broken into pieces, but maybe- just _maybe_ \- Ed will be the one to pick him up and put him back together. Oswald sets his mug down on the piano and turns back to Ed, opening his mouth to tell him how grateful he is that he's there. But Ed starts talking before Oswald has a chance.

"You said that you had no friends," Ed pauses and takes Oswald's cold hands in his own, "Now you have at least one."

"Ed..."

"No, don't- don't say anything." Ed's eyes have a trace of fear in them, like he's afraid Oswald will reject him.

But Oswald is so desperate to have _someone_ in his life that he can trust that at this point he doesn't care if Ed's just using him or tricking him. He's more than willing to let Ed help him, to trust him with his life. And Oswald doesn't know what other way to convey his thanks other than what he does next. Which is lean forward and kiss Ed on the cheek. But his lips hover on Ed's skin just a little bit too long and when he hears Ed's intake of breath he pulls back sharply.

Edward's heart has skipped a beat. He stares down at Oswald in surprise. And then his eyes settle on Oswald's lips and he wonders if Oswald tastes as good as he imagines. Ed's thumbs begin to draw circles onto the back of Oswald's hands and the sensation causes Oswald's eyes to flutter closed. Ed softly runs his hand up Oswald's arm and cups his face. Oswald's eyes slowly open and Ed drowns in the crystal lakes that are his eyes.

He leans forward, slowly, giving Oswald all the time in the world to push him away or stand up and leave if this isn't what he wants. And Oswald finds himself leaning forward too. And when their lips touch neither of them can deny the spark that electrifies the air around them. It's just a sweet kiss, a soft brush of lips, but it's enough to completely devour the two of them.

Oswald pulls away, shaking. He's so overcome with this new feeling, this _thrill_. Ed doesn't know what he's feeling. He wants both to just cradle his baby bird in his arms and to completely _ruin_ his precious Penguin.

"My tea is getting cold." Oswald whispers, pulling Nygma out of his thoughts and shifting out of Ed's touch.

Ed's shocked for a moment at the loss of heat. Oswald stands up, starts walking toward the kitchen, mug in hand.

"Wait." Ed says, standing up and walking over to him swiftly.

He takes the cup and sets it down before turning back to Oswald. He pulls Oswald back to him, gently wrapping an arm around him, the other going back to his cheek.

"Eddie-" Oswald starts, just wanting space to think through his feelings.

"Ossie." Ed whispers.

And for some reason the way he says it, the whispered exhalation of the nickname, sends shivers down Oswald's spine and he's once again filled with an unfamiliar feeling. A longing for something more than what he's ever experienced or had before. And before he can do anything Ed has wrapped himself around Oswald, pulled him into a tight embrace. And it's then that Oswald realizes he can't have Ed as just a friend, he doesn't _want_ to. He wants _this,_ he wants the kisses and the _intimacy,_ and the trust. He wants Ed inside and out and he wants his brains as well as his heart.

"I must confess something." Ed says quietly.

"What is it?"

"I think I might be falling in love with you."

Oswald pulls back enough to look in Ed's eyes. "I think I might be falling for you too."

And Ed holds onto Oswald tighter. Because he never, _never_ wants this feeling to leave him.      


End file.
